. ."
"And this reporter, who is he?" asked Petunikoff, with interest.
"He? A drunkard. He was a teacher but was dismissed. He drank
everything he possessed . . . and now he writes for the papers
and composes petitions. He is a very wicked man!"
"H'm! And did he write your petition, too? I suppose it was he
who discovered the flaws in the building. The beams were not
rightly put in?"
"He did! I know it for a fact! The dog! He read it aloud in
here and boasted, 'Now I have caused Petunikoff some loss!'"
"Ye--es. . . Well, then, do you want to be reconciled?"
"To be reconciled?" The soldier lowered his head and thought.
"Ah! This is a hard life!" said he, in a querulous voice,
scratching his head.
"One must learn by experience," Petunikoff reassured him,
lighting a cigarette.
"Learn . . . It is not that, my dear sir; but don't you see
there is no freedom? Don't you see what a life I lead? I live
in fear and trembling . . . I am refused the freedom so
desirable to me in my movements, and I fear this ghost of a
teacher will write about me in the papers. Sanitary inspectors
will be called for .
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